


meet me halfway to your heart

by mapped



Category: Black Sails
Genre: 5 Times, F/F, Fluff, Light Angst, Oral Sex, Post-Season/Series 02, Season/Series 03, Slice of Life, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 10:47:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8841616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mapped/pseuds/mapped
Summary: Five times Max wears Anne's hat.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shirogiku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shirogiku/gifts), [candlewinds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/candlewinds/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [shirogiku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shirogiku/pseuds/shirogiku) in the [pirate_prompts_2016](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/pirate_prompts_2016) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> fluffy smut goodness, Max wearing nothing but Anne's hat
> 
> \---
> 
> Also inspired by candlewinds' [lovely post here](http://candlewinds.tumblr.com/post/154036765259/concept-anne-and-max-are-sitting-outside) and kambarbay's [wonderful fanart of Max and Anne riding a horse together](https://kambarbay.tumblr.com/post/149241458912/it-started-out-as-a-need-to-draw-anne-horseback). Title from 'Given It All' by Hayley Kiyoko.
> 
> Happy birthday, Jess! <3 And I hope you like this too, Shiro! :D

**I.**

“Whatever shall we do with all our gold?” Max asks, playfully, when she and Anne are in her room after she has been shown that hold filled with gleaming ingots. It is still hardly sinking in, that she has so much now. They really need to find a secure place to put it all, but right now Max just wants to bask in it.

Anne sets her hat aside, the slightest of smiles curving her lips. She draws Max to her, and they are kissing, and suddenly Max thinks, _We are the wealthiest two women on earth_. It is Anne’s mouth on hers that makes her feel as if she owns all the world. She clutches Anne to her, breathlessly happy, and when they break apart, she sees how Anne looks too, blue eyes clear and bright with joy.

There’s a tiny scrape on Anne’s brow. Max traces a finger along it.

“You were not badly hurt in the fight with the Spanish soldiers?”

Anne shakes her head. Reassured, Max runs her hands through Anne’s hair. It is so lovely, richer than rubies. Max has never had so much in her entire life. It amazes her every time, how different Anne looks without the hat, how beautiful and soft. Or perhaps it is simply the way Anne looks at her when they are alone.

“I have an idea,” Max says, eyeing the hat on the table. It is such a battered old thing, plain and dirt-coloured. No doubt it has seen countless things as Anne’s companion. But perhaps it is time for it to retire. Anne deserves something a little more handsome—something not for her to hide behind, but something to complement her. “The first thing we will do is purchase a new hat for you.”

Anne frowns, her hands moving to snatch her hat up again almost defensively. She crumples it, and then stares down at it, as if seeing for the first time how shabby it has become.

“I ain’t having anything fancy, all right?” she warns, and Max claps her hands together in glee.

“Of course,” Max says, and gives Anne a peck on the cheek. “Let us go and find you something suitable.”

They go to the market and peruse the stalls. There are a great deal of straw hats and cocked hats, but nothing that really seems to suit Anne. Then Max’s eyes alight on something dark and simple, with a wide, flat brim—just how Anne likes her hats. But it will be a change of colour, slate grey instead of brown, and it is subtly embellished by fine stitching all around it: detail that is pleasing when admired closely, but will not make the hat stand out from afar.

“Here!” she exclaims, picking it up. “Do you like this?”

Anne grudgingly takes her own hat off, absent-mindedly letting Max take it as she tries on the hat Max has chosen and looks in the small, grimy mirror that stands on the stall table. She looks wonderful; the grey sets off the gorgeous shade of her hair so much more brilliantly than brown.

“Yeah, it ain’t bad,” Anne says, after a while. She turns to Max, and a laugh is immediately startled out of her, a sharp, delighted sound that makes Max’s heart jump. “Oi! What the fuck, Max?”

“I am merely wearing your old hat, seeing as you do not need it anymore,” Max says, shrugging and fishing a few coins out of her purse to drop onto the table. She smiles slyly from under the brim, lifts it a little so she can wink at Anne, and then she turns and slips into the crowd.

Anne’s hand touches hers a few moments later and she pulls Anne through the crowd, feeling giddy. Hand in hand, they walk back to the inn, where Anne kisses Max until her old hat falls off Max’s head and down the side of their bed, forgotten.

* * *

**II.**

Anne had wanted to teach Max how to ride, but Max had asked, “Would it not be nicer for me to ride with you instead?” And Anne couldn’t say no to Max and her sweet smile. Really, Anne had just wanted to spend some time with Max away from the bustle of the town and the noises of the brothel, and giving Max a riding lesson seemed like a good excuse, but sharing a horse with Max—well, turns out that’s even better. Max does always have the best ideas.

Max has her arms wrapped around Anne’s waist, and the coastline stretches along their left, the ocean blue as far as Anne can see. They ride in silence. There ain’t nothing out here except the two of them and their horse. It’s fucking bliss. Nearly as good as being on a ship. Maybe better. No men. No stink of bodies. Close enough to the sea that she can smell the salt, hear the waves. The slow gait of the horse beneath them ain’t like the rocking of a ship, but its rhythm calms her in its own way, and Max’s warmth around her is her favourite thing about being on land.

The sky starts to get murky as the day goes on. Anne turns the horse back in the direction of town, hoping they’ll make it back before it starts to rain.

They’re close to town when it begins to pour. Anne swears and gives the side of her horse a little kick, urging it to go faster, but Max squeezes her arms tight around Anne’s waist and says, close to Anne’s ear so Anne hears her over the loud pattering, “No, don’t.”

So Anne pulls on the reins and the horse goes back to a canter. “Why, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, ma chère,” Max says. “It is quite the opposite. I would like to prolong this ride with you, that is all. I am of a mind to stay away from my office a little longer.”

“You’re gonna get soaked,” Anne protests.

Max laughs. “So will you, my sweet,” she says. “But I think that is not the sort of thing you mind.”

“I like getting wet,” Anne says.

“Oh, I _know_ you do.” Max’s voice is so suggestive Anne can _hear_ the fluttering eyelashes.

Anne snorts. “Should’ve known you’d say that.” She takes off her hat and twists round so she can put it on Max’s head. Max makes a surprised noise, and Anne trails a hand through Max’s locks of hair that are already dripping. The hat probably isn’t gonna help much, but it’s better than nothing. And Max looks really fucking adorable wearing it, wide brown eyes peering at Anne from underneath, so there’s that, too.

She kisses Max, tastes the rainwater running between their lips. 

Turning back to face the path ahead, she feels Max slide up even closer to her in the saddle. She looks up at the grey sky and closes her eyes. She loves it, being out in the heavy rain. It makes her feel so clean. Like running her fingers over healing wounds that have become new skin. All her past is washed away. She’s only this woman, right here, right now, riding with the woman she loves.

“You ever been swimming?” Anne asks.

“No, I have not.”

Shocked, Anne blurts, “We live with all this water around us and you’ve never gone in it?”

“I am a busy woman,” Max says, as if that explains it.

“We have to go,” Anne says, feeling urgent for some reason. “I have to show you what it’s like.” Fuck, the sea on a hot day! The coolness of the water, and how if you dive deep enough, you feel like you’re alone in the world. She can’t not share that with Max.

“Then we shall go, ma cherie,” Max says, voice like a song. “And I will sink like a stone, and you will laugh at me, and we will have a merry time.”

“I’m gonna teach you how not to sink,” Anne says. “And I’m still gonna actually teach you how to ride.” Because she wants to do this again, be out here in the quiet with Max. “It might be useful someday.”

Max hums acquiescence into her shoulder, and they carry on down to the buildings of Nassau, drenched in rain and totally at peace.

* * *

**III.**

After a late night working out some business deals, Max returns from her office to the inn to find Anne already asleep, a solitary candle burning low. She sits at the side of the bed as she takes her shoes off and wearily undresses, tired hands fumbling with laces, and glances at Anne’s pale face, relaxed and soft in sleep.

Anne’s hat lies on the table by the bed. It does suit Anne splendidly; Max congratulates herself on a purchase well-made. It is a marvellous feeling to see Anne walking around in something she bought, when months ago she would not have had the money to buy anything nice even for herself. But it feels even better to see Anne without the hat, and Anne is so much more often without it these days. She does not even wear her hat the same way. It used to be that Anne Bonny’s hat was her disguise, but now, it is a hat like any other. She was a shadow before, a ghost with no eyes, only the fearful red veil of her hair, a silent harbinger of death.

Now, Max knows the colour of Anne’s eyes, and she has seen them in every light. Anne Bonny is a shadow no more. There are days when she seems as bright and open as the sunlit sky to Max.

Max picks up the hat. It smells like Anne’s hair, which Max washes for her with rosemary oil and soap. She puts it on her head. All her life she has wanted to be _seen_ , for people to look her in the eyes and recognise who she is and what she is capable of. She has never wanted to hide, and she always used to think that Anne wearing a hat meant that Anne wanted to be invisible from the world. But it took her some time to realise that Anne was waiting to be seen, too, for the right person to look past her shadowy hat and her blood-red hair and see the woman underneath, the woman she did not even know she was. Anne had been waiting to see herself.

The slight weight of Anne’s hat on Max’s head is comforting. It tells her that she saw Anne so that Anne could finally manage to see herself, and that is one of the most important things Max thinks she will have ever achieved in her life. Even if they may not last, she will have done this, and Anne will always wear this hat differently. That is something indelible, and it warms Max’s heart with pride.

* * *

**IV.**

Anne pushes opens the door to their room, back from a meeting with Jack and Charles about the progress at the fort. She raises a hand to her head to take off her hat, which is when she realises that she isn’t wearing it.

And as the door swings fully open, she sees Max sitting in bed, reading, draped in a golden robe, and wearing Anne’s fucking hat.

“How the fuck did you get that?” Anne asks. She’s never been so confused in her life.

“Get what?” Max asks, all innocence. “My book? I bought it the other day. It is a very—”

“My _hat_!”

“Oh, this?” Max tips the hat at her, grinning. “You left it here.”

“I— What d’you mean I _left_ it.”

“You left it. On the table. You were in a hurry leaving and you forgot to put it on when you left. And it seems you did not even notice till now. I have to say, I was not expecting that.” Max sets her book down. “Is there something on your mind?”

Anne frowns. “Nothing. I’m fine.” But she still can’t figure it out. She just left her hat and didn’t even have a clue about it. How was that fucking possible? She _never_ goes anywhere without that hat. There’s got to be something wrong with her.

“Well, if nothing is bothering you, ma chère, would you like to come join me in bed?”

“You taking the day off work or something?” Anne asks. “Shouldn’t you be in your office by now?”

“When I saw that you had left your hat, I believed you would return for it soon enough and I would have the chance to tease you about it and then be on my way. But I waited, and you did not reappear, and I have made it much further into this novel than I supposed I would.” 

“But you ain’t even dressed,” Anne says, gesturing at Max.

Max sighs. “ _Yes_ , I was feeling rather lazy, if you must have me confess,” she says. “Is that such a terrible sin?” She casts a smirk at Anne, under the hat brim angled low over her face, and unties the sash that fastens her robe, revealing so much enticing skin.

Dammit, Max is just too fucking _much_.

Anne strips off her clothes as she goes over to the bed, tossing her jacket and shirt to the floor, and she climbs onto the bed and straddles Max, kissing her deeply. Max seems to float out of her flowing robe, leaving it underneath her like a golden throne as she lounges upon it, naked and magnetic.

Max talks about how in another time, in another place, they’d call her a queen. But the way she carries herself, the way she looks at people and addresses them—Anne doesn’t fucking understand why in _this_ time, in _this_ place, nobody calls her a queen. She’s still wearing Anne’s hat, which makes for an odd sort of crown, but her smoky eyes hold such fucking power, they always make Anne feel weak in the best way.

“You ain’t got no right to look that fucking good in _my_ hat,” Anne grumbles, before sucking Max’s nipple into her mouth, hard, with a hint of teeth, and then licking it gently to soothe it. Max gasps and giggles.

Max’s tits are just so fucking perfect. They fit right in Anne’s hands, and she loves squeezing both of them at the same time, dragging her palms over those hardening nipples, watching Max moan.

She kisses the skin on the underside of Max’s tit, worrying it with her teeth and tongue until it leaves a red mark. She kisses wetly all the way down Max’s belly; she loves how much softer it is than her own. Everything about Max is so soft, but she’s the strongest person Anne’s ever known. How does that make any sense?

Max squirms like hell when Anne licks at that patch of skin next to her hipbone. “It tickles!” she yelps. Anne knows that, obviously; she smiles as she parts the black curls below with her hands and presses her tongue to Max’s clit, lapping it firmly a few times before swirling her tongue around it and down. Max is wet as rain, and Anne groans low at the taste of her, the scent. She bathes her lips in that wetness, and looks up at Max, who is clinging desperately onto the brim of Anne’s hat, of all things. The hat’s barely sitting on her head anymore, all askew by now.

“You are getting too good at that,” Max whines.

Anne can’t help but chuckle before she says, “Only ‘cuz I had the best teacher, didn’t I?” Max smiles and Anne feels herself blush, so she goes back to nuzzling Max’s clit and licking at it over and over, keeping up the same pressure and rhythm as best as she can. Max’s hand is tangled in Anne’s hair and she bucks up against Anne’s mouth, her moans rising higher as she comes.

Anne doesn’t stop, happy to draw more noises out of Max and feel Max’s thighs trembling under her hands for as long as she can, until Max pulls her away at last. She moves to lie across the bed with her head on Max’s belly and looks up at Max, who’s still catching her breath, a sheen of sweat on her face. The hat’s slipped off now onto a pillow.

“’m glad you were feelin’ lazy,” Anne mumbles.

“So am I.” Max thumbs at Anne’s nose and lips that are damp with her own wetness, before bending down to kiss Anne, softly. 

* * *

**V.**

When Max sees Governor Rogers coming back, bloodied and wounded, when she learns that Jack has been rescued and Vane captured, all she can think is that Anne must be back with Jack now. Earlier, when Eleanor told her that Anne was still alive after handing over the cache, she barely had time to be relieved, only concerned about what more trouble was to come. Now, she has a little time to breathe, and she thinks of Anne and Jack, together again, and she is glad.

She and Anne are on opposing sides of this war, but she knows that as long as Anne and Jack can stay by each other’s side, then Anne, at least, will be all right. 

She enters her room and goes to one of her many chests: she has more finery now than she had ever dreamed of, and needs so much space to put it all. At the bottom of this particular chest, under layers of crisp fabric and vibrant colours that dazzle in their newness, is a hat, mud-brown, almost invisible against the dark wood. It is a scruffy, worn thing, fraying all round its rim.

She lifts it out carefully, as if it were a jewelled crown, but it is soft and warm as a live thing in her hands. 

She presses her lips briefly to that tattered brim and places the hat atop her head, letting the brim shade her from the rest of the world. Eyes shut, she thinks of Anne’s ruby-red hair, and the ache in her heart eases, if only just a little.

They never did go swimming together, but she does know how to ride a horse now.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are much adored! <3 And you can always find me [on tumblr](http://reluming.tumblr.com/) if you ever wanna chat about anything.


End file.
